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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28037559">When Life Imitates Art</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kelkat9/pseuds/Kelkat9'>Kelkat9</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Humor, Romance, Tropes, Tumblr Prompt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:09:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,596</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28037559</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kelkat9/pseuds/Kelkat9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aspiring Romance Novelist Rose Tyler meets the man from her books in the midst of questionable activity in the basement and her job blowing up.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ninth Doctor/Rose Tyler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>When Life Imitates Art</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is from a tumblr prompt.  I'm trying to post these to AO3 so they're easier to find in case I ever decide to expand on one.</p><p>Trope Mash Up:<br/>42 The Big Damn Kiss </p><p>51 Accidentally Married</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rose Tyler never saw herself as an adventuress.  Romance novelist yes, dreamer for sure, shop girl to pay the bills.  But never the heroine who captivated the brilliant, athletic and usually dreamy hero.  These things happened to her characters in exotic locations she’d never see.</p><p>At night, the words flowed and worlds blossomed in her minds eye.  Usually with a tall older bloke, not movie star good looking, but more like one of the Roman statutes she admired in the British Museum.  A man of character and a nice ass.  Someone of intellect, wit and unafraid to tell the snide prejudiced shopper types to piss off.  Rose’s fantasy bloke.  Who she channeled when she had one of <i>those</i> customers.</p><p>One day she’d make enough off her fairly successful books to quit the day job.  Well maybe not enough to quit all the way, but at least get a job she enjoyed as much as writing.  Weird how sometimes the universe answered wishes and dreams. Like a scene plucked out of one of her books.</p><p>Tall, wearing a black leather coat, the bloke, the hero from her books, barreled into her as she was delivering the lottery money to Wilson in the basement at Henriks.   She stumbled backward over boxes until a strong arm wrapped around her and spun her back to standing.  Before she could let loose her annoyance, she met vivid blue eyes sparking with an effervescence.  <i>Run</i>. One word was punctuated by the pop pop pop of gunfire and bullets exploding into the concrete walls of the basement.</p><p>Heart slamming in her chest with a good dose of not wanting to die, Rose ran hand in hand with the man who would sweep her into a world of smuggling, high stakes gambling and an ancient artifact alleged to give the possessor power over all humanity.</p><p>The Doctor, more than a code name, saved her from whatever Wilson had going on in the basement.  But now they, the underground mafia known as Slitheen, had seen her and she was a marked woman.  As the Doctor yanked her around a corner, an eardrum shattering boom shook the street tossing them to the pavement.  Glass and dust rained down on them from her former job, now a burning pile of rubble.  She reached for her phone to text her mum she was safe.  </p><p>Little did she know it would be the last time for months she’d contact her mum.  Soon phones were taboo, dangerous and trackable.  Rose was plunged into a run for her life, taking her across London, down back alleys, across abandoned wharves and South to Cardiff.  Despite her life in tatters, she never felt lost or defeated.</p><p>The Doctor, her leather wearing savior who ticked every box of hot, world saving hero, kept her on the move. There was hiding out in back rooms, secret hidden alcoves at pubs with some of the best food she ever ate.  Sometimes they were shoved body to body in a tight closed or cupboard burrowed against his soft cotton t-shirt until she swore he had two hearts hammering against her one.  Other times, they sought shelter and help from the Doctor’s cache of allies, friends and people who owed him a favor.  Sleeping happened on the fly, in trains curled up to his side or wrapped in his coat tucked away in a church or shelter. They helped others as much as they sought refuge. Like Afsana on the run from religious zealots who didn’t like her work for women’s rights.  Then there was Kee wrongly accused of a crime he didn’t commit.</p><p>Rose reveled in helping as much as she did the running.  There was a swooping sense of satisfaction at standing up for the true unacknowledged heroes in the world.  Even if it was as small as walking them down the street, standing up to prejudiced wankers in sit in or offering a hot meal or delivering a letter.  For the first time, Rose felt a sense a purpose even if she was on the run.</p><p>In fact, so immersed in all the running and investigating and fleeing the country, she barely paid attention to how her hand fit in the Doctor’s so perfectly.  The way they clashed heatedly, problem solving as they disagreed and found common ground happened so seamlessly it was like they'd known each other for years. </p><p>Tangling their bodies up at night on a boat off the coast of Spain, the heat flared until Rose had to admit, she wouldn’t have traded anything for this time with him. Yes, she missed her mum and never knowing where her next meal came. But oh, did she love the running with him, the stolen intimate moments and true partnership.  Star gazing in a place not polluted by civilization, his leather clad arms wrapped around her…this was living.</p><p>Laughing, teasing and enjoying freedom soon came to a nasty halt.  </p><p>The Slitheen had them cornered them in an old church in Barcelona.  Despite the adrenaline rush and the possibility of certain death, Rose took strength in the man who stood by her side, who said he wouldn’t have missed meeting her and everything they’d done for anything in the world.  God, what she wouldn’t give for one kiss, one brush of those firm lips.  This would be the point in her books where the heroine said screw it and grabbed the bloke by his leather lapels and snogged him until he came up with the brilliant plan to save them.</p><p>But this wasn’t a book.It was better.  </p><p>For in this church was an artifact everyone would kill to possess.  The Rod of Rassilon.  To Rose, it was sort of just a wooden staff with a blue crystal stuck on the top.  Sort of cheesy looking.  In her writer’s mind, she’d have done better.</p><p>And that’s when things turned in her favor.  </p><p>God, she wished she’d written this.  The Cult of Rassilon swarmed into the darkened, abandoned church surrounding the Slitheen who were about to put several bullets in them. Lucky for Rose, or maybe part of her gorgeous Doctor’s plan, he'd gifted her a necklace he’d bartered for in a church bizarre that held religious significance to the Rassilonians.  </p><p>And the religious zealots glomped onto some rubbish myth that her necklace designated her as the vessel to unleash their evil plan.  Honestly, why did blokes always make the woman the vessel?  Typical that they saw her as an empty headed tool.  </p><p>Rather than meet certain death, Rose agreed to a ceremony wherein, she the wearer of the sacred amulet, activated the dodgy looking rod giving the cult power over everyone.  Not her first choice.  Especially given they ogled her tits and made a few sexist remarks they deserved a good slapping over.  Rose read enough of these books to know how to play along.  Even as the Doctor violently shook his head no.</p><p>She was Rose Tyler, romance novelist and survivor of months on the run who had just found her soul mate.  These wankers had no idea who they fucked with.  She was going to live and get her bloke.  By the power of all the muses, she would get them out of this using her not insubstantial creative brain.  And thus, after they did their ceremonial chant around her and the Doctor, Rose did as they asked holding the rod in the air.  Except, Rose insisted she needed the Doctor. As much as she wanted to toss the all-male cult into the fires of feminist hell, she played the soft, breathy female card about how she needed her Doctor.  </p><p>They fell for it.  So typical. Disappointing really.</p><p>And thus she and the Doctor used their ridiculous ceremony, where she whipped the rod around, and she and the Doctor used it like a battering ram as it pulsed blue light in an oddly phallic way and by some cosmic force yeeted the cult and the Slitheen out of the church which crumbled around them.  Luckily, the rod seemed to protect them.</p><p>Finally, the kiss she’d been waiting thousands of words for happened.  Wrapped in his arms, she finally had the tongue tangling snog she'd been lusting for.  Heat flared in low in her belly and she raked her nails through his short-cropped hair until he unleashed a groan that curled her toes.  After nearly smothering themselves with a snog, they parted.  Panting but exhilarated, Rose could only focus on how she wanted to peel him out of that leather coat which she had a wicked use for later.</p><p>He eyed the rod before breaking it into pieces and pocketing the crystal.  Sunlight pierced the cloud of dust.  A few choked coughs and they walked out past a few pummeled villains. When Rose asked what was next, he grinned and mentioned well they could go back to London or…there was this beach in Marbella with a cottage just for two.  Given they’d just sort of been married during the ceremony and wielded the device to save the Earth, maybe a holiday was in order.</p><p>As they walked away, beating dust from their clothing, Rose snorted and nearly fell over in laughter at how many tropes she’d just ticked off on this adventure. She again grabbed her Doctor for another snog of her life. More than her life.  This was the snog of happily ever after.  Better than any book.  Unless she could persuade him to co-author with her, but they’d need a little more naked research.  This was a romance after all</p>
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